Chapter 1 Dudley
Chapter 1 Dudley
Dudley stared blankly at the peeling paint on the ceiling of his new bedroom. The safe house was wrong, Dudley could sense the magic humming all around him. He thought he was used to being around that strange feeling, it followed Harry around like a bad smell but this was so much worse. He had asked his parents if they could feel it but seemed to effect Dudley more than it effected them. Dudley felt like he was drowning in it, magic in the walls, the floor, in every breath he took, clawing its way down his throat and up his nose finding its way through every pore and into every cell in his body. He wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere but here. He could feel the resentment for his cousin bubbling up inside him again.
His friends would be finishing their summer holidays right now, Dudley imagined them sat on the beach barbecuing and laughing without him, while he lay alone in a strangers house in a damp sleeping bag, his entire life upended. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh.
Dudley had never felt comfortable around magic, bad things always seemed to happen to him where magic was concerned. He mostly tried to ignore that it existed or pretend he didn’t know it existed, like he was in the rest of the ‘muggle’ population completely ignorant to it. But there’s something about magic that’s pervasive, it seeps into everything corrupting as it goes. Dudley still occasionally had nightmares, dreams of a pink tail, or rattling breaths that sucked away all happiness and warmth, a small creature with big eyes. Those memories can’t be erased as much as Dudley wished they could. They were stuck to him now, solid as cement and he hated Harry for that, even though he realised that probably wasn’t fair.
It was Harry Potter’s fault that Dudley had been forced to live in hiding in a strange wizards house until the ‘Wizarding War’ resolved itself. Dudley rolled over to check the alarm clock, shafts of warm light were just starting to stream in from behind the blinds. Seven in the morning, there was little point in getting up, he wasn’t allowed to do anything or go anywhere. He hadn’t been allowed to step outside the house at all since he had arrived.
Dudley reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, steeling himself for another day of bouncing between desperate boredom and futile attempts to placate his parents.
He didn’t bother dressing, remaining in his striped pyjamas, but he went to clean his teeth in the small bathroom across the landing. There was a portrait next to the bathroom mirror of an older man in a dusty looking library. The painting watched him, nodded and said ‘good morning’ as Dudley brushed his teeth.
‘Morning’ Dudley murmured looking down at his feet, unsure of the etiquette for talking to paintings, he made a mental note to ask Diggle.
Dudley wound his way downstairs, the spiral staircase creaking in protest under his bare feet. The kitchen he emerged into was an assault on the senses, a messy mishmash of clashing styles and clutter. Dudley wondered if it was a wizard thing, Harry’s bedroom always seemed to be full and untidy despite his parents refusal to buy him almost anything. The kettle was boiling on the stove, some dishes were washing themselves in the sink, the cloth moving around in the soapy water all on its own, Dudley inwardly cringed he didn’t think he would ever get used to it.
The curtains were floral and heavy, they matched with the bright orange of the walls. Every surface was covered in an assortment of objects, jars of green plants, ornaments of animals Dudley did not recognise and chipped crockery, there were four cuckoo clocks on just one wall for some reason. Dudley couldn’t fathom why you would want one cuckoo clock let alone four. The whole room was too big, it was too much, Dudley missed the simplicity of Privet Drive and the clean smell of bleach. Diggle had clearly never heard of the stuff. His house was musty and dusty everything seemed to have a thin coating of dust, surely Diggle could just use his magic to spell the dust away? Maybe wizards just weren’t that bothered about the state of their houses.
Dudley took a seat at the table and a plate flew from one of the green cupboards and landed in front of him. Two slices of toast flung themselves out of the toaster to place themselves neatly on the plate. Dudley turned around to see Diggle in the doorway with his wand out but his nose buried in a magical newspaper called ‘The daily Prophet’. Diggle gave his wand another flick, the fridge door opened and a mug darted from the mug tree on the window sill. The mug landed in-front of Dudley and the juice jug neatly poured a mugful before shooting directly back to the fridge.
‘Uh Thankyou’ Dudley directed at Diggle who was still stood behind him reading in the doorway.
‘Sleep well?’ Diggle enquired
‘Yeah thanks’ Dudley lied.
Diggle was a small man, probably in his fifties. He wore velvet floor length robes in an olive green. His nose was round and red and his face seemed to be in a permanent smile despite the fact apparently he was actively fighting the frontlines of a war. Diggle had been nothing but an accommodating and delightful host and yet somehow Dudley found everything he did irritating.
‘Do you mind not doing that… c-can you let me make breakfast y’know.. my way y’know the m-muggle way?’ Dudley asked, he had asked the same question every morning since they arrived a week ago.
‘Sorry my boy, force of habit’ his voice was dripping in condescension, Dudley imagined that if he could have he would have followed that up with ‘sweet simple muggle boy’ and patted him on the head.
‘No problem’ Dudley replied coolly as he began to sip his juice.
‘Heh hum’ Dudley heard his mothers high, clipped voice from behind Diggle’s head. Dudley prepared himself. His mother was not coping with life in hiding, Dudley couldn’t tell what she was finding harder, the state of the house, being made a prisoner, or the magic that was thrumming through this place, she hated magic even more than he did. Either way his mother had been wound so tightly this week that one wrong move had Dudley worrying she would unravel completely.
‘Apologies’ Diggle lowered the paper and gave an elaborate bow finishing in an obnoxious flourish and pulling out Petunia’s chair for her. Diggle gave her a wide grin. Petunia said nothing but pursed her lips and sat down, so stiff she reminded Dudley of a shop mannequin. To his credit Diggle sat down opposite them, completely relaxed as if they were all best friends, no offence taken at Petunia’s clear dislike for him. He closed the paper and set it down on the table next to him, he gave his wand another flick and breakfast materials began to zoom around the kitchen behind him. Petunia gave a little gasp and a shudder at the sudden movement.
Dudley could read the headlines now that the newspaper was closer, his breath caught in his throat, it was Harry he could see on the cover, a large moving photo of his cousin took up almost the whole of the front page. The photo didn’t really look like Harry though, he had harsh dark circles under his eyes, he was frowning and looking backwards and forwards from one side to the other with a menacing serpentine movement. It was not the Harry that Dudley knew, not the boy he had grown up with at all. The boy who had played with toy knights, the boy Dudley could hear through the walls cooing and fussing over his owl, not the boy Dudley had regretfully spent a large chunk of his childhood hating and demeaning and being generally cruel to. No, this boy looked like someone Dudley would cross the road to avoid, this was someone to be afraid of. The headline read ‘undesirable number one- Harry Potter- escaped fugitive and known serial murderer strikes again killing five members of the same family in rural Surrey.’
‘Can I ?’ Dudley asked reaching for the paper.
‘Be my guest, but it doesn’t make for an enjoyable read.’ There was humour in Diggle’s voice but it didn’t quite make it to his eyes.
Dudley read
‘last night Harry Potter and known associates Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger broke into the Clearwater house on Lakeland Road and killed all five members of the Clearwater family inside their home. It has been confirmed by ministry officials that the family were killed using the killing curse after prolonged torture, it is unclear why Harry Potter has targeted this family. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Harry Potter or any of his followers please contact the ministry of magic immediately. Owls can be sent to the Newly formed ‘undesirables detection department’ MOM level 3.’
It was strange reading about his cousin this way, it was only a week ago that Dudley had been told that his cousin was famous in the Magic world, that there was an evil wizard on the rampage who was targeting Harry directly- who had tried to kill him before and been responsible for the death of Dudley’s aunt and uncle. Apparently his parents had felt this information was not important, it was almost unbelievable that Dudley had spent the last eighteen years living in the same house as a celebrity without even realising. It would be funny if it wasn’t all so fucking tragic. There was so much swirling around inside Dudley he wasn’t really sure what to do with himself- all this new information, terrifying and life altering and most of the population were entirely ignorant to this enormous shadow that looked set to engulf the entire world, happy lambs headed straight into the slaughterhouse, how Dudley wished desperately that he was one of them.
Dudley certainly now knew that Harry was important, every wizard he’d come into contact with in the last week had made that perfectly clear, Harry Potter was a hero. Dudley was only here because of his association with Harry, Harry who was so dangerous his entire family had been sent into hiding. Dudley’s entire existence had been picked up and violently shaken, good people were bad apparently and bad people were good and Dudley didn’t know which way was was up or down, was he a good person? he had a horrible feeling he might be bad. He didn’t know who he could trust, wizards were bad, he had been taught this his entire life, but every wizard he had met so far was pleasant enough. Harry was a murderer according to the news but that made no sense. Magic was bad but wizards were protecting him, his parents were good, but were they? Memories of their unkindness to Harry burned in his mind, he tried to ignore the memories of his own unkindness. These wizards were good he supposed, they supported Harry, but then why was the newspaper saying Harry was a murderer? Nothing made any sense at all, like Dudley was on a ride that he just wanted to get off but it wouldn’t stop, he wanted to throw up but couldn’t, every time he felt like his feet were going to hit the floor the ground gave way and he was swallowed up again. And worst of all he was keeping all these feelings buried deep so he could put on a front for his parents, to keep them from falling apart the way he felt he was, he needed to be strong for them.
‘Okay Diddy?’
He was vaguely aware of his mothers hand resting over his own on the tabletop.
‘Yeah good’ Dudley lied again
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Headache, he’s still in bed. I think the moving pictures are giving him motion sickness again’ she shot a pointed look in Diggle’s direction but he just smiled back.
‘Shame, I can come and do some diagnostic spells if you like?’
Petunia paled
‘No no that won’t be necessary thankyou, he’s taken some paracetamol’ she stuttered.
‘Ooh parry setty mol? I’ve heard of this muggle remedy- will you show me the packet? I’d love to run some tests.’
Petunia looked as though she might throw up.
‘He took the last two’ she struggled out
‘Ahh shame, never mind’
Diggle looked genuinely disappointed, and Dudley felt a small swell of affection for the man.
‘Well… I’m off on a job for the order today so you’ll have the run of the house, usual rules apply I’m afraid, windows shut, don’t leave the house, all the protective charms will remain in place, floo network had been disconnected and there’s an anti apparition charm too so all should be well, but Hestia is next door anyway so she’ll be keeping an eye on all of you’
‘Is all this really necessary? Petunia asked for the hundredth time.
‘Fraid so.’ Diggle replied in a jovial but stern tone, that suggested he was tiring of the same questions.
‘I’ll be back by six tonight.’
And with that Diggle stood, he grabbed an over-cloak and left, firmly closing the front door behind him.
Dudley saw his mum visibly relax, shoulders lowering and lips un-pursing.
‘Thank goodness’ she sighed
But Dudley felt more worried if anything, suddenly exposed without the extra protection that Diggle gave them.
‘Is dad alright?’ He asked trying to distract himself.
‘He’s fine love- Diggle told him he was busy today so he was waiting until he left to come down.’ she smiled.
‘Oh’ Dudley replied feeling bad for Diggle
‘He’ll be down any minute’ Petunia continued.
Dudley nodded taking a bite of toast.
Sure enough five minutes later Vernon Dursley descended on the kitchen loudly complaining about the ‘bloody moving pictures trying to talk to me all the bloody time.’
They passed the morning slowly, Vernon read the ‘normal’ newspaper pointedly ignoring The daily Prophet on the kitchen table.
‘More deaths’ he murmured.
Dudley read a book he found on a shelf in the utility room ‘One hundred British water plants and their magical properties’ which was surprisingly illuminating. They had lunch, Petunia cooked some pasta salad but Dudley had a crisp sandwich. Dudley attempted an unsuccessful nap in the afternoon. He gave up at about five and went back downstairs where he started a game of scrabble with his mother. At six he started to feel anxious for Diggle to get back, by seven he had begun to furiously pick the skin off his nails. At eight he was twitching the curtains looking for any sign of Diggle walking up the drive. By nine even his parents were getting a little fidgety. At ten they decided he probably wasn’t going to make it back today and maybe it was best to go to bed, Vernon confidently proclaiming that he would be back in the morning. They thought about going next door to find this ‘Hestia’ she had been mentioned a few times as another member of the order tasked with the Dursley’s safety but they hadn’t met her yet. In the end they collectively decided to leave it given Diggle’s insistence that they not leave the house.
At eleven Dudley was laid awake and fully dressed on top of his bed. At twelve he heard three hard knocks on the front door.